Monthly Archives: March 2017

It was all smoke and mirrors!! It was all a game to him, you are yelling. Everyone is staring at us as we try to pick the perfect bottle of whiskey for the occasion. You never know what’s the perfect drink to cure a broken heart though. So hold a second as we pile different flavors into the cart.

Watch me forget his name. Watch me erase all memory of him, you scream as the alcohol limits slowly play a game of who’s stronger with your blood. The fact that we’ve had nothing to eat does nothing to help this unfair competition. So i pour the whiskey and you rant. I smoke and you rant some more. I start drinking the moment you start breaking down and hold you as racking sobs have your body shaking. I can’t watch you like this sober. It is not fair to either of us.

It is like watching a child cut himself crawling on broken glass. It hurts me more than it hurts you. You delete the beautiful pictures of you and him on the phone. They are so many you give up after you realize that your hands are too tired and the light is hurting your eyes so you drop the phone into the glass of whiskey. You seem to have come to terms with the reality of the situation so you start smoking, the tears caked up on your face making you look so vulnerable.

I am still holding you and your head is cradled on my shoulder. We are seated on the balcony. It is a Friday night. Life is going on as usual. Most of the neighbors are asleep. The stars look so bright it almost sounds unfair that such a beautiful night could habor such a dark moment to you.

You go over the details leading up to the moment and we analyze it till we decide to give it the middle finger. Surely there’s more to life than moping around. So we go online and book a holiday for the weekend. This was supposed to be your wedding night after all.

What is it about you? You take my words and turn them around. You fling them back at me with so much hate and anger. What did I ever do to you, I wonder? You take out the love in every action and make it a personal vendetta even in the most harmless of things. You turn my smile into a frown so easy I have forgotten what it feels like to be genuinely happy.

What is it about you? You have me wound so tight, I’m ready to snap at any moment. When you curl up in bed, does it feel like you’ve accomplished your day’s mission when my feelings are trampled over. Does it make you feel big when you make me flinch emotionally? Does it make you happy to make me turn to ice just so you can point out how much of a cold person i am?

What is it about you? Were you always this way or did life just serve you the wrong lemons along the way? Have you always been this much of an emotional terrorist? I open my mouth but you hear me wrong. I say what I feel, but you turn it upside down. Love what have you done with my tongue, I open my mouth but you steer me wrong.

You ask why you can’t elicit a reaction from me. You drive me over the edge looking for a reaction. You want me to yell, break things, fling my arms at you, anything. Thing is, that part of me is numb for now. You gotta know, I’m feeling low. I just don’t have the energy to transform that into a reaction. And you were never patient enough to look for a response. Knee-jerk reactions are all you understand. Before you get to my level, I’ll sip my coffee from a distance and watch you unravel at the seams.

Why don’t you let me know

If the ice in your veins

Will thaw into love

Hypothermia is real,luv

I can remember the exact moment when I fell in love with you. The moment I read your work and connected with you on another level. I had not met you then. And I sat there staring at the screen and thinking how foolish i was to be feeling this way when we were virtually strangers.

When i look back at it, I was always in love with your style of writing more than i was in love with you. And i looked forward to putting a face to the words that had stolen my soul. And i still haunt your site to find new posts. And listen to the music we shared to find you between the lines.

And you beckon me with your toothy smile. And we are taking random pictures. Dressing up to go out. What’s some harmless flirting going to do after all, right? Except it is not harmless. And it turns out we crossed the line between flirting and wanting each other.

And we are holding each other. Laughing at each other’s jokes. There’s this funny TV series we watch together. And there are endless possibilities running through my mind.

I remember when I first noticed that you liked me back. We were in a bar seated across each other and you were smiling at me and our gazes couldn’t break. And the crowd faded as we danced suggestively.

And we stumble over each other. Am reaching for your lips and your breath is fast. Your eyes are glazed and my senses are peaked from the sweet scent of you. I don’t remember how we end in your room. Your nipples are pushing against the fabric of your tee and I suck your left breast as you moan and push towards my mouth.

There is a certain choreography to our movements. It feels natural that I am here with you. This moment feels like it was waiting to happen. Your part my lips with your tongue, tasting of cigarettes and mint, and I’m breathless. We make love then, with no strings attached. And it felt as good as i knew it would.

You are dancing with me and my eyes are closed. You pull a little closer and a part of my soul tugs with happiness. Your eyes have this mischevious look and i am smiling now. We burst out laughing because that seems to be the only way we communicate lately.

I like the way your breasts look in your tee and the way your eyes twinkle when you smile. Stay with me. I don’t want you to leave. I like you best when you are laughing without a care in the world. Put off the candle. I want to feel you with my senses ,just without my sight. Until you fall asleep. My nipples graze against yours and my whole body is throbbing naked desire and wanton want.

It’s a few minutes to midnight. I’ve been going through Tim Dowling’s writing for the best part of the night now. I’ve decided I like his writing style. He makes it look so easy and my life sounds so mundane and dull compared to his.

I’ve been shuffling my playlist looking for something to get me in the mood. I tried Chet Faker, that’s my go-to playlist when I want to be in the mood to write, then tried Tom Odell and am now listening to Saudade, which literally means Longing, as though I understand a word of Portuguese. The band pelts a great tune, the kind that allows you to get lost in the music and be nostalgic of a moment you are yet to live. The kind that makes you believe that life has a lot more to offer to you specifically. The kind that makes you wistful for things you don’t know.

And I am living a moment I have lived before, a moment I’m living and moments that are surreal to me. And I don’t want to leave this moment just yet.Am clinging to a memory that’s shattering me to pieces. Am hanging on to a pain that I needed to feel but numbed it before. Am walking a fine line between nostalgia and wanderlust.

.And I don’t want to leave this moment just yet. Am clinging to a memory that’s shattering me to pieces. Am hanging on to a pain that I needed to feel but numbed it before. Am walking a fine line between nostalgia and wanderlust.

I need to shrug off this dark cloud yet for some reason it’s comfortable walking these paths. Memory lane feels familiar. This boulevard of broken dreams is crowded but feels comfortable. There is a certain intimacy I have with my shattered dreams. The kind that is perverted yet puts a smile on your face. The kind of smile one gets from knowing that there’s nothing much to be done in some situations. The kind of smile a dying mother puts on for her child knowing fully well that she can’t do shit for them yet has to be strong to her last breathe because that’s what mothers do for their spawn, even the ungrateful and spiteful ones, they all deserve a mother’s love.

And you are a mean bastard when you are drunk. Hurling angry and hurtful words. And she is clinging to the baby. Because it’s the only beautiful thing that reminds her of you. And the baby is staring at her with scared eyes sucking it’s thumb. She is sobbing softly. Her tears falling on the baby’s face. He is screaming now. They are both driving you crazy. You bang the door loudly and drive off in rage.

Why doesn’t she get it? You lover her. You love them both dearly.

You don’t see the oncoming car. You are pounding your fists on the steering wheel cursing and mumbling under your breath. The blinding headlights jolt you out of your drunk stupor a bit too late and the only thing you think before the collision is that you don’t even know the color of her eyes after being together for 10 years. When was the last time you held her?